The
Who, What and How About Intendr:
“Have
you ever wondered how Edgar Casey came up with
all that phenomenal information he gave to his
clients?
And how about the spiritual master, Sai
Baba who lives in India today? or the countless
others who see, hear and do things that the rest
of humanity calls impossible?
The best way to answer your question is
to share a conversation I had with Intendr on
this very topic.
When I first
became aware of him, I made some notes and then
much later, I wrote a story of my experiences
with him.
May I read that story to you?”
“You
have it available?”
“Yup.
I dug the story out of my old files
earlier today with the intention of reading it
to you tonight.”
“And
here I am, ready and willing to listen, so
you’ve just managed to create another of your
intentional manifestations."
“Just
another example of conscious living!”
“Okay,
the story, please.”
“Remember,
Stoney, this is my 11-year-old self that
you’ll be listening to. She picks up a notebook and starts reading from it.
She speaks with a distinct style which is not
the Jezebel I know.
My
official legal name is Henrietta Scrivener.
I hate being called Henrietta so I’ve
chosen a real name for myself.
I now call myself Jezebel.
I’m eleven years old. My body is starting to become a woman, and I don’t
know what to think about what‘s happening to
me, so I start asking for help.
I don’t want to talk to mom ‘cause
she’s such a prude, and the only other, older
person I can talk with is Cousin Cynthia.
Cynthia is Seventeen.
She’s very supportive and informative,
and I really appreciated her, but I have this
funny feeling there was more I need to know and
someone else for me to talk to.
That feeling and my asking is what
triggers my memory of Intendr.
Here’s how it happens.
One
afternoon I’m sitting by the stream in Welsly
Park splashing in the water with my feet
and with a stick I found nearby. I’m daydreaming about nothing in particular.
Then I begin to wonder what it would be
like to be wise like Jesus’ mom.
She’d know what to do.
She’d know how to deal with this body
of mine.
Or I’d even just like to be wise like
Abraham Lincoln was. Almost without thought I say out loud, “Dear
God, thank you for
sending me someone wise to talk with so I
can get wise too.”
Then with out much further thought, I
continue splashing and daydreaming.
“Jazz,
can I interrupt you for a minute.
People don’t pray by saying thank you.
People are usually begging God for
favors.
Where did you come up with that novel way
of praying at age eleven?”
“It’s
not novel at all.
It’s older than the Bible, itself.
Do you recall, on the day we met, I told
you about our long-time family friend, Walter
Watkins?”
“I
remember.”
“Well,
Walter taught this to me.
He told me that’s the way Jesus always
prayed, and it sure worked for him, so I figured
if Walter say it’s the way to pray and it’s
the way Jesus prayed, then it’s the way for
me, too.”
I
express my satisfaction with her explanation,
and Jezebel returns to reading her story.
About
three minutes later, I see this man rowing a
boat right down the middle of the stream.
I think this is kind of weird ‘cause Hadley
Creek is
hardly big enough for a toy boat never, mind a
real, get-in-it-&-row, kinda’ boat.
He’s dressed weird, too.
He’s wearing cobalt blue pants, a
magenta shirt and a dark-green, funny-looking
hat.
His hat is kind of long from front to
back and narrow on the sides.
The hat has a long, thin pheasant feather
in it that sticks out behind.
It reminds me of Robin Hood, but the rest
of his clothes are too weird, even for a
medieval folk tale.
He
comes right up to where I am sitting and runs
the front of the boat into the creek bank.
I see that under that hat is a kind of
handsome looking face.
He looks at me as though he knows me and
says, “Greetings, my lady.
How may I be of service?”
I
look back at him like he is some kind of freak
and say,
“Mamma told me not to talk to
strangers, so you better get out of here before
I conk you one on the head with this stick.”
He
says, “As
you wish, my lady.”
He turns, pushes the boat back off the
creek bank, climbs in, and continues to row down
the stream.
He soon disappears around the bend.
I
think to myself, “He’s kind of cute, but he
sure dresses weird, and what’s he doing in a
boat, anyway?”
Soon I’m into splashing again and I
don’t give him any more thought.
I don’t think any more about this wise
person stuff either until that night when I’m
lying in bed and almost asleep.
I’m feeling strange feelings in my body
again, so once more, I pray to God for someone
wise to help me.
That night I have a very powerful dream,
but when I wake up, all I can remember about the
dream is that it was very special dream, and in
the dream I felt very very good.
Several
times during that day and the next day, I start
thinking about the funny man in the boat, but I
make no connection between him and my dream.
I find myself feeling a strange
attraction to him.
I wonder about him, but I think my
attraction is just associated with his cute face
and my changing body.
The
next day, I’m at Ferris Lake sitting alone
near the picnic area.
I’m sitting on a rock and splashing my
feet in the water.
Rather spontaneously and almost without
thinking, I look up to the clouds overhead and
again say, “God, thank you for sending me
someone wise that I can talk with.”
I continue to kick water into the air and
watch the clouds roll by.
In
less than a minute, I notice a sparkle of light
way out in the lake.
“What do you suppose that is?” I say
to myself.
I watch the sparkle.
It appears to be coming closer.
Soon, I can make out that it is a person
rowing a boat and coming in my direction.
In another couple of minutes, I can see
it’s a man wearing a hat rowing the boat, only
instead of rowing with his back to where he is
going, this man is facing where he is heading.
Then
I notice the bright colored clothes and say to
myself, “Do
you suppose this is the same weirdo I saw in
Hadley Creek a couple of days ago?”
When he gets about fifty yards away,
there is no longer and doubt in my mind.
It’s the same weirdo.
He rows right up to me and again runs the
front of his boat onto the ground.
I wait and watch as he steps out of the
boat, walks over the picnic table, and sits at
the bench.
He’s wearing same clothes that he had
on the day I saw him in the creek, cobalt blue
pants, magenta shirt and a deep forest-green
hat, only today there is a ring on the hat that
sparkles.
Also
new to me is a necklace similar the ring around
his hat.
At the bottom of the necklace and
covering his chest is a round object that has a
brightness about it which prevents me from
distinguishing any details.
His clothes appear to be very soft.
I don’t actually touch the cloth,
however, from their look, I’d guess they were
a cross between velvet and silk.
He
looks at me.
I look back.
Finally, I break the silence and say,
“What’re you doing here?”
“You
called again, my lady.”
I
say, “I’m
not a lady.”
“Ahhh.
. . but
you are!
And that ladyship will soon be showing
itself gallantly.”
“Who
are you, anyway, and what do you want?”
“I
am Intendr, and I want for nothing.”
I
say again, “Then what are you doing here?”
“I
came in answer to your call.”
“What
call?
Are you crazy?”
“I
certainly would be thought of as crazy by many
if they knew of me.
But then, perhaps you are not aware that
in a society of lunatics, a sane person would be
considered crazy.”
“You
talk funny.
Now tell me, what call are you talking
about?”
He
stands up, removes his hat and bows to me
slightly.
“As you wish, my lady.”
“You’re
doing that funny talk, again.
Tell me what call?”
He
seems to turn around without moving and says to
me, “As
you wish.
May I quote your latest words?”
“Yeah,
I’m listening.”
“God,
thank you for sending me someone wise that I can
talk with.”
My
mouth drops open, and I just stare at him.
“I was splashing water at Hadley Creek
the day I first saw you.”
“You
called me that day also, and then you sent me
away.”
“This
is just too weird. Who are you?”
“Someone
wise to talk with.”
“What
do you want with me?”
“I
have already answered that question.
I want for nothing.
I came in answer to your call.”
“We’re
going around in circles.”
“As
you wish.”
All of a sudden the world appears to be
spinning.
I feel myself getting dizzy.
“Whoa!
Whoa!
Stop!” I yell.
Instantly, everything becomes calm again.
“This
is just too weird.”
“Another
circle?”
“No!
No!
I mean this is very unusual.”
“Yes,
you are an unusual lady.
Most don’t call and fewer still see or
hear me when I arrive.
Look closely at this boat.
Does it bring back any memories?”
“It
reminds me of my favorite baby song, Row, row,
row your boat; Gently down the stream.”
“Would
you like to sing it with me?
“Why?”
“Singing
might help you to remember.”
“Remember
what?”
“That’s
what we can sing the song to find out”
“OK.”
We
sing together,
Row,
row, row your boat,
Gently
down the stream,
Merrily,
merrily, merrily,
Life
is but a dream.
“What
does the song remind you of?”
“I
remember lots of times when I was a little girl
lying on my mom's bed and looking at the
three-inch-wide strip of paper that ran along
the top of the wall just below the ceiling.”
“Tell
my anything you remember about that strip.”
“It
was pastel colored, blue and peach, with a pale
off-white background.
It had double straight lines at the top
and bottom, and between the double lines, it had
two wavy lines and lots of little flowers.
It looked to me like a river flowing in
waves. It went up and down as it went around the room.”
6-4
“What
else can you remember?”
“I
remember it looked like it was really alive.
I remember watching it flow around the
room like a river, and it always flowed from
left to right.
I also remember mamma rubbing my head and
singing “Row, row, row you boat while I
watched the river flow around the room.”
“May
we sing the song again?”
“Sure.”
“This
time, close your eyes and imagine yourself as a
little girl lying in your mom's bed and watching
that river.”
I
close my eyes and we sing together.
Row,
row, row your boat,
Gently
down the stream,
Merrily,
merrily, merrily,
Life
is. . .
I
stop singing and open my eyes.
I exclaim, “You were in a boat in that
river!”
“You
remember!
Good!
Your mom taught you that song while you
were a very young child and that has held your
connection to me.
Most lose their connection.
You didn’t, mainly by that song.”
“But
why me?
Why are you coming to me?”
“Does
this sound familiar? ‘God, thank you for sending
me someone wise to talk with so I can get
wise too.’ ‘I wish I was wise like Jesus’ mom.’ Or how about this one, ‘God,
thank you for sending me someone wise that I can
talk with’.”
“I
called you?”
“Three
times in three days.”
“That’s
only twice.”
“Do
you remember a couple nights age when you had
that powerful dream?
That was the third call.
Well, actually it was the second call.
Today was the third.”
“And
you answered?”
“Of
Course!"
"Why?"
I ask.
Because
that's how the Universe functions. Seek
and you shall find. Knock and the door shall be opened.”
“You
also called on several other occasions, but at
those times you were not able to see or hear
me.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I
live in a different world than you.”
“I
still don’t get what you mean?”
“If
others were here with us right now, they would
neither see nor hear me.”
“You
mean like Harvey, the invisible six-foot
rabbit?”
“Yup.”
“Now
you’re really talking crazy.”
“And
I suppose you’re going to tell me that you and
Harvey are bosom buddies.”
“No,
we're just acquaintances.”
“How
come I can see you if no one else can?”
“Several
factors contribute to your ability to see and
hear me.
Part of it has to do with the row your
boat song and the river we just talked about.
Part has to do with the strong desire
within you for the truth and much of this has to
do with the conditions you intended for yourself
before you entered this body for this lifetime.
Part of it also has to do with your
willingness to see and do the unusual, even in
the face of being ridiculed.
Your biological changes are the trigger
mechanism that is assisting you in breaking the
barriers between our two realities.”
“You
are also much less cluttered with the usual
fears and false beliefs that most humans your
age carry.
You have a strong faith in God, a
substantial belief in yourself, and joy filled
heart. And most importantly, you called me using the exact
correct technique to create my presence here
with you.
“So
all these things contribute to my being able to
see and hear you.“
“Correct,
my lady.”
“What
did you mean when you said I called you using
the exact correct technique?”
“Saying
‘God, thank you for
sending me someone wise that I can talk with.’
is quite different from saying, ‘God please
send me someone wise that I can talk with.’
Where did you learn to pray like that?”
“From
Walter.
I figure since that’s the way Jesus
prayed, it’s good enough for me.”
“Obviously
it worked.”
“Why
doe s it work?”
“I
suggest we reserve for another time the
discussion of why that works as it does.”
“Good,
I’d rather play now, anyway.”
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